Ultimately, her mind conjured up an image of herself as she was now, strapped to a similar bench, but not here, rather, in the middle of the Colosseum in Rome as the lions closed in on all sides while the bloodthirsty hordes cheered them on.
She shook her head to clear that gruesome image, surely she was making a simple spanking into more than it was. And obviously, over the years, she’d forgotten what an impression—no pun intended—all the spankings she had witnessed had made. Clearly, it was more commonplace than she’d ever realized. And now, when it was her time to be on the receiving end, a little tremor of excitement shot through her.
“I’m going to warm you up with my hand first.” As Dan explained what was to come, his hand slid over her upturned bottom, slipping under the hem of her skirt and dragging it upward. “Following that, I’ll give you a taste of three implements, all beginner’s level, have no fear. To finish up, you’ll get twenty with the paddle for all that fidgeting and squirming earlier, and for not letting me know when you were feeling discomfort.”
“Um, I’m feeling discomfort right about now, Sir.”
Some of the onlookers heard and laughed at her newbie response.
“On a padded bench before you’ve had the first swat? I seriously doubt that is true, darlin’, besides any discomfort moving forward is intentional. Your knees hurting while on the floor and your feet falling asleep were unintended and your Dom needed to know that. This will be a reminder to be more forthcoming in the future.”
Without delaying any longer, his hand descended on her bottom as the warm-up began. Although mortifying to Angie, it was very tame compared to what she had witnessed others undergo. Given over her panties—skimpy as they were—it wasn’t all that bad, more than tolerable, in fact, and her bottom cheeks had become pleasantly warm and tingly by the time he moved on. Next came a dozen from a black suede flogger, also not bad, although he gave the final few strokes a bit more zing, which she discernibly felt through the thin lace barrier. Even more so when some of the tails collided with the bare skin of her lower cheeks.
He followed that by a dozen more from a nylon lash, consisting of a bundle of thin corded blue loops. Tensing for more of a bite, it surprised her by starting out as a caress. It was deceptively tame, however, lulling her falsely because by the time Dan got into a rhythm, it was landing with a thud, each blow making her grunt. Still, it wasn’t horrible.
He paused again, his big hand gliding over her tenderized bottom. She had to admit that felt nice. Just as she was relaxing into it and let out a muffled groan, he stopped.
“Maybe not so vanilla as I thought, eh?” He murmured low for her ears only while he patted one cheek. “This next one, probably won’t be as pleasant. The first two were sensual implements, intended mostly for play. This one, not so much, but it’s flexible and has quite a bit of give. A mild tool for minor offenses that still falls in the beginner category.”
She felt something smooth and firm rub over her warmed behind. Unsure what it could be, she glanced back.
“Eyes front, sub,” Dan ordered in a stern tone, as a resounding smack landed across both cheeks. With a yelp, she immediately obeyed.
This startled her. She had responded to his firm command without hesitation, as if by instinct, not once thinking about disobeying. He didn’t give her time to figure it out before he continued.
“You’ll get twenty and you’ll count every stroke. This is for your earlier misbehavior. Afterward, we’ll find a quiet corner to talk about your first trip over the spanking bench. Ready?”
She wasn’t, far from it, still trying to comprehend twenty swats on top of the good warming she’d already had. Then the first crack sounded and stinging heat exploded across her tender skin. There was a brief pause before Angie squealed, forgetting her role altogether.
“Oh my God, what is that?”
She was surprised when he held out a large round leather paddle the size of her head. No matter that Dan claimed it was a beginner’s punishment tool, it stung like the dickens.
“You call that mild? My ass is on fire.” That was when Angie realized the descriptor ‘mild’ had a wide breadth of connotations between a beginner and an experienced sadist. Foolishly, she told him that in no uncertain terms. “I believe there is a chasm as wide as the Grand Canyon between your definition of mild and mine… Sir.” She barely remembered to tack on the sir at the end.
A bare handed slap fell across her upper thigh, followed by Dan’s scolding words. “Curb that tongue or you’ll become acquainted with my definitions of moderate and severe before you’re ready for them, girl.”
Angie swallowed, her throat gone dry as a wave of approval swept through the observers. As a Dominant, he couldn’t let her sarcasm slide, she realized that. She also decided that Dan had missed his calling, he would have killed on Broadway the way he played to an audience.
“I beg your pardon, Sir. Please disregard the Grand Canyon remark.”
He laughed outright this time, as did the highly amused crowd. “Angie, my dear, you are precious and almost make me forget the task at hand. But soon, you’ll know the difference between a spanking for punishment and one given for pleasure. Mind you, that first swat didn’t count because you forgot to.”
Dutifully, she remembered to call out a number as the next stroke fell, and the next. By the time he’d administered five with the paddle, moving it all over her tenderized butt, she’d figured out the difference Dan had alluded to.
“Good girl,” he encouraged as Angie yelped out the numbers. She forgot on stroke number six and again on nine, so when she called ten, it was actually twelve in total. He paused there and she felt his hand cover her cheeks, one at a time.
“Nice and warm. You’re doing so well. Are you sure you haven’t been over a dominant’s knee before?” He laughed at the vehement shake of her head. “I ask because even though I’m going easy, many newbies would be in tears by now or begging my forgiveness and asking me to stop. I’ve had a few, not quite sure what to expect from the start, who screamed red at the top of their lungs at this point and were ready to go back to their vanilla world for good.” He patted her lace-covered cheek. “Not my intrepid, Angela. Pick up at eleven.”
She barely managed to keep up her count as the damnable paddle descended for another short set of five. It was certainly an effective measure for ending any sass or snarky remarks because it was all she could do to breathe, let alone blurt out a number, as her punishment continued.
“For the last five, the panties are coming down.”
Murmurs of appreciation behind her didn’t remind Angie she was being watched. She’d been fully cognizant of the observers the entire time, ever since he’d led her behind the velvet ropes. There had been a half dozen members lined up at the time. The number had doubled in the few seconds it had taken him to adjust the bench to his height. By the time she’d knelt on the padded knee rest, her black lace covered behind aimed at the spectators, they numbered four deep.
Approval, as well as excitement, rippled through the onlookers as he peeled down the lace. She felt cool air on her fiery cheeks and on the dampness that had trickled onto her inner thighs. Her face flamed with a heat equaling her ass knowing everyone would see she was aroused.
“Five more and you’re done, darlin’. Don’t forget to count.”
Against bare skin, the leather paddle connected with a much louder thwap. The sting more than doubled. Unable to hold back any longer, each blow was followed by a squeak or a sucking sound as she drew air into her seizing lungs.
“Sixteen, Sir,” she panted.
Another thwap a bit harder.
“Ooh, ow! Seventeen,” she cried.
The next swat carried more muscle and stung like blue blazes.
“Motherfucker,” she cursed to the accompaniment of gasps and low chuckles.
“Angela,” he barked.
“Eighteen, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”
“That one will be repeated.” And it was,
landing identically in the same spot with the same fire as its predecessor.
“Eighteen number two, Sir,” she ground out.
Outright laughs followed her response.
“Don’t give me justification for eighteen number three or four, sub.”
Another fell and she counted nineteen without the snark.
“Good girl,” her pretend Dom murmured with approval, which made her grind her teeth. When this assignment was done, she was deleting all of those titillating BDSM stories from her Kindle. Fantasy was one thing, but reality, so did not do it for her.
With number twenty, though the actual count was really twenty-three, she heaved a relieved sigh. Jumping, when his hand returned to rub her burning skin, soothing the sting away somewhat.
A few minutes later she was off the bench and wrapped in a soft, fuzzy blanket, half-lying across Dan’s lap while ensconced snugly in his arms. A strange foggy lethargy consumed her. Vaguely, she reflected on how her pretend Dom didn’t seem quite so pretend anymore.
He squeezed her in a tight hug, asking, “So, little newbie, what did you think about your first session?”
“Maybe you could ask me tomorrow when my brain and behind are in functional order once more?”
He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re stringing your words together pretty well. How about giving it a try now?”
“Well,” she began, wriggling atop his thighs until she found a more comfortable spot on one hip. “I found it all incredibly intimate. The first part wasn’t entirely awful, but I think I could have done without that leather tormenter, Sir.”
“I have two things to say about that statement. First, if I’d spared you the leather, you would have missed the lesson and wouldn’t remember the difference when tempted to get sassy in the future.”
Meaning in LA, it was game time in order to fool, and subsequently catch, the abductor. He lapsed into silence until she prompted, “What’s the second thing?”
He lowered his mouth to her ear. “If I was your Dom for real, I’d have proven you didn’t find any of it entirely awful.”
She swallowed, not saying a word because he wasn’t wrong.
Chapter Five
Dressed in a hot pink racer-back tank and black Capri pants, Angie paced the mat in the gym at Rossi. The clock on the wall read 8:15 a.m. Dan was late. He was never late. Something was up.
The metal door clanged as it opened behind her, but it wasn’t Dan. It was Cap, followed closely by Lil T. She frowned. Something was definitely up.
“Change in plans, Angie. Dan got called away on a family emergency last night.”
This was surprising. They’d parted ways less than eight hours ago. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Not life threatening, fortunately,” Cap replied, quickly dispelling her fears. “His mother had a wipe out on her scooter and broke her hip.”
Picturing a little old lady with gray hair in one of those slow-going power chairs with the wide base and seat belt that probably topped out at four miles per hour, she tilted her head and inquired, “How exactly does one wipe out on one of those?”
He smiled. “I should clarify. Marjorie Ogilvie is not your average seventy-two-year-old. Her scooter was a 300-class Honda Forza. According to Dan, she was street racing, cut a corner too sharply while passing on the inside lane, and wiped out. He flew out to Dallas on a 6 a.m. flight.”
“Of course.” In the weeks she’d been working with Dan, she’d frequently seen him ride in on his custom Harley, a Super Glide he’d called it. It was hot and as they became close she’d finagled a ride on the back a time or two, and loved it. She smiled, thinking about his mother on a souped-up scooter. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. “I’ll call him and see if there’s anything I can do.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that, Angie,” Cap said with a small smile. His eyes cut to T who stood silently beside him.
When she did the same, her smile faded seeing the glower on his face. Without being told, she knew why T was there.
“T is going to take over your training, here and at the club.”
Hearing precisely what she’d expected, it still struck her like a blow. Angie’s head swung to her boss. No! It couldn’t happen.
A vivid memory of him with the woman tied to the bench invaded her thoughts. His head thrown back with pleasure, his neck muscles tight, his biceps and forearms bulging as he gripped the woman’s hips, and his long thick cock glistening with her juices as he took her, hard. While she’d been assimilating all of that, he’d come, growling his release. He was gorgeous.
To say she’d been shocked was putting it mildly. Not so much by the fact that he was driving into the bound woman, or that another man was using her mouth at the same time. It wasn’t that she was stark naked, her hands and feet restrained as they double teamed her. It was more so the sheer beauty of the man she’d lusted after for so long. Her heart twisted now, as it had then, first with jealousy that it hadn’t been her—bent over, tied down, helpless and vulnerable in front of him—then turning to pain when she realized that it never would be.
She’d spent the better part of last night and this morning trying to push the images of him from her mind. When she had succeeded, sort of, she’d had little time to prepare herself to see Dan again. Considering what he’d done to her, touching her so intimately, spanking her naked backside, it seemed a daunting task. Spared the awkward moment this morning, she’d welcome it tenfold in exchange for this instant with T.
The past twelve hours spent purging him from her memory were all for naught as all of it came flooding back. The scolding she’d given herself for yearning after something out of reach, for acting like a naïve, jealous fool, and the ultimate humiliation, fleeing when she saw him with another, had been wasted.
Once, he’d offered her the chance to bring her fantasies to life by playing with him at the club, time limited, naturally. She’d declined out of self-preservation, knowing her heart couldn’t take being that close to the man of her dreams, who starred in every single one of her sex fantasies, and never be able to have him as she really wanted him. Beyond the sex and games, beyond a few hours of mindless passion, she wanted him fully, without time constraints, without limitations, and outside the restrictions of his hardline, one night, no relationship rules.
Now that she’d seen him in the flesh, while in the throes of passion, she was afraid she would cave shamelessly and forever regret her weakness. How was she supposed to work with him? Moving on and forgetting T would be hard enough, with him as her trainer it would be next to impossible, but as her Dom… No! Her chest tightened painfully.
“Um, Cap, can we talk for a moment in private?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw T stiffen and resolved not to look.
“I’m already late for a meeting. What is it?”
“It’s just that…” She paused, trying to come up with a way to say this without offending him, yet she couldn’t. These were men who were used to conflict and making split second decisions. They lived in the moment and didn’t beat around the bush in action or speech. They liked straight talk and appreciated straight answers. Taking a deep breath, she gave them that. “I’d rather not train with T. Isn’t there someone else?”
Cap frowned, glancing from one to the other. “Something going on between you two I should know about?”
“No,” T replied, a split-second ahead of Angie’s emphatic denial. “Absolutely not.”
“Then what is the problem?”
Angie at last glanced his way and found him watching her closely. His brow quirked, apparently very interested in hearing her answer. He wasn’t helping one bit. Surely he agreed this was a really bad idea. Yet his crossed arms and stiff carriage made her suspect he was offended by her reluctance to work with him.
“I’d really prefer someone else.” It was no explanation, and made it sound like she was being difficult—like a capricious woman—exactly how she didn’t want to be thought of as the
only woman in this world of tough men. Damn.
Cap’s dark brows drew together. “I can get someone else, but would have to pull them off another job, which I’d rather not do. He’s just come back and is available now. Further, T usually works with our FNG’s. If he’d been back from assignment when you came on board, you’d have gotten him from the start.”
“FNG’s?” She asked, unfamiliar with the acronym, having noticed long ago the military used many more than the police.
“Army term for new recruits,” Cap explained tactfully.
“Short for ‘fuckin’ new guys’,” T added indelicately, his tone as brusque as his manner.
Cap shot him a look.
He simply shrugged it off.
“As I was saying, T is an excellent operative, as proficient as Dano. In weaponry and tactical skills, even more so. As far as submissive training goes, although he doesn’t have as many years under his belt, he’s an experienced dominant. He’s also the only single man left on staff who’s in the lifestyle. With Dan gone, I’m afraid you’re stuck with T’s guidance at Decadence regardless. So you might as well have him do both.”
“Gee, thanks, Cap,” T drawled.
“I’m fine with T for Rossi, but the club… Surely you have another available Dom there who can train me. I shouldn’t think they need to be a security expert for that.”
“You’d rather have a stranger than me?” T barked.
Yep, offended and she’d just made it worse. It did sound rather bad, that she’d take anyone else, still it was true. She couldn’t do it with him. He’d suck her in with his charm and lay waste to her heart when it was over.
“Are you ready for that, darlin’?” T probed in a tone so low and rumbly it came out like a growl. “A club Dom isn’t going to know about your assignment for Rossi. They’ll treat you like a real submissive and expect you to behave that way. I don’t think you would like all that entails.”
He meant sex, of course, public scenes, spankings, floggings, bondage and lord knows what else.
What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) Page 6